


Saying Nothing

by burymeinziam



Series: A Little Screw Loose [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeinziam/pseuds/burymeinziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Zayn's mind moves too quickly and his hands can't keep up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saying Nothing

Sometimes Zayn wishes he could sit down with a pen in hand and a blank sheet of paper in front of him and will his hand to move as fast as his mind.

His thoughts were constantly swimming in his brain like a fish trapped in a bowl with no sense of direction or a child lost in one of those mazes the local farmers like to put on for Halloween

Or…

Or…

He doesn’t know because everything is always moving and nothing is constant and Zayn can never really connect one thought to another.

He doesn’t know how it starts with thoughts of stars and constellations and how far away are we really from the moon or the sun to the vents in the bathroom and whether or not someone really is hiding cameras in his and Liam’s shabby apartment.

Liam told him maybe writing things down would help him to organize his thoughts – get them out of his head and onto something tangible that Zayn could touch and make sense out of.

But the thing is Zayn’s mind is always racing. It’s constantly in motion zipping and zooming at what feels to be a thousand miles an hour and Zayn’s hand can’t move that quickly.

If he could Zayn would write until the cramping in his right hand became too much to bear and then he’d move onto his left and do the same.

He would write until the point of suffocation, until the words on the page blurred and faded into thick black swirls that made little to no sense to Zayn’s raging brain and then he’d write some more.

Zayn would write himself into one of his all too common nervous breakdowns – a manuscript that would spiral out of control reaching out with invisible hands to crawl back into Zayn’s mind where his darkest thoughts are best kept secret.

But he’d write them down anyways because anywhere is better than his head.

And Zayn would write about Liam.

He’d write about warm eyes and a kind smile that somehow always remained constant even though Zayn knew that sometimes Liam grew tired.

He’d write about a time before.

Before.

When things were simple and easy and Zayn wasn’t plagued by incessant people that weren’t really there and his pills didn’t overcrowd the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

He’d write about before when they were happy and how while he’s still happy now he can’t help but to wish things were different; normal.

Zayn would fill pages upon pages with Liam and all the things he wants to say but can’t form into words because his mind moves too much and when the consonants and the vowels finally come together he’s already climbed onto some other tangent and it gets lost all over again.

He’d tell Liam everything on paper instead of out loud because sometimes things are just easier that way.

Zayn wishes he could sit down and get everything out, but his mind moves to quickly and his hand can’t keep up.

So he settles for lying in bed, his brain feeling like a fish trapped in a bowl that’s two sizes too small, and talks to Liam about the sun and the moon and the stars and the voices he swears he can hear coming from the vents and how much he loves him and mostly that he’s sorry that his hands are too slow.


End file.
